


Something Nice

by Gloria_Maddox



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Secretary (2002)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Heavily 'Secretary' influenced, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Sub!jimmy, Temptation, better living and goal achieving through bdsm!, dom!kim, mailroom Jimmy, or something like that, the porn cometh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloria_Maddox/pseuds/Gloria_Maddox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim's life isn't exactly going to plan, the only bright spot being her fixation on the mailroom boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is me dealing with my Jimmy/Kim feels and Better Call Saul feelings in general. I think they'd make a wonderful domme/sub pairing. Also, Jimmy subbing anywhere just makes me happy. 
> 
> And I'm sorry this chapter is a lot shorter than planned. There was some other scenes I was working on, but then scrapped them, further proving I should outline, even when I'm just writing for fun. But there's more coming! 
> 
> Also, thanks to junes_discotheque and jimmy-mckill. You lovely ladies have an inspiring spirit and wonderful posts. Thank ya!
> 
> Oh yeah, and this hasn't been beta'd so.... forgive my general literary clumsiness.

Kim’s life at HHM had started to take a weird turn at that time, with her still working in what was essentially a storage shed that provided no light except for the light from her lamp, making her feel like a prison inmate with a few extra privileges. There had been vaguely bandied about promises about her moving up, a few from Howard, but mainly from Chuck, who was the master of giving her warm, grandfatherly looks of affection that quickly curdled into something slimy and sinister because he would stare at her chest a little too long. 

“Just hang in there a little longer. A little longer,” he would say, but what longer was exactly, no-one could tell her, everyone at HHM seemingly content with letting Kim languish in the dark room toward the back of the building. 

But the strangest turn at HHM was one that no-one knew about. It was a happenstance occurring in Kim’s life that she kept to herself, a secret, twisted joy that she kept hidden, like a forbidden piece of salt water taffy melting under her tongue before she was supposed to eat dinner. 

It was Jimmy, the mailroom boy. 

He had arrived two weeks prior with a shy smile and not much fanfare, simply appearing in the mailroom as if placed there overnight by the temp agency fairy, but Kim had noticed him and she had started to follow him around HHM. She couldn’t say why she did it, why she was acting this strange, to follow around a boy whose last name she didn’t even know, except to say that she felt _drawn_ to him. He was like an out-of-season butterfly, flickering in her peripheral vision, bringing desperately needed color to her life when he wasn’t even aware that he was doing so.

She liked his luminous blue eyes and sweet dimples that shined as purely as one of Howard’s freshly pressed shirts. She liked his little laugh, how it literally made a ‘Haha!’ kind of sound, like a cartoon character, yet it was real and all his own. She also liked the way he would bite his bottom lip nervously when he thought no one could see him, his eyes going wide in concentration, before he released it, the skin of the bottom lip a deep rose color from being bitten, causing Kim to wonder what the bitten color must have looked like up close.

What she liked most, however, was his sweet, blindingly earnest temperament. His was kind to the strange and the helpless, like he couldn’t exist except to please. He had comforted their grotesque ex-accountant one Friday afternoon after she had been fired. The pathetic creature blew her nose into a ratty linen handkerchief as Jimmy sat next to her on the bench outside the HHM building, gently rubbing her shoulder before offering her one of his cigarettes, giving it to her with as much showmanship as a doctor giving a crying girl a lollipop. 

Jimmy was also cordial to the old man named Emmet who often came to HHM under the pretense of doing his will, but was simply desperate for companionship. He always came into the HHM lobby at 10am sharp on a Wednesday, wearing a heavily re-hemmed royal blue trench coat and a cashmere scarf that smelled of stale mouthwash. After meeting Jimmy, Emmet came to HHM more frequently, seeking out Jimmy’s kindness with as much fervor as an abandoned puppy, standing outside the mailroom for half an hour before Jimmy would finally take his break, and Jimmy would sit next to Emmet on the couch in the lunch room, gravely nodding when Emmet talked about how depressed he was or smiling cordially when Emmet reminisced about living in in New York City in the 1950s, his favorite stories revolving around his time as the costume designer for a broadway production of Othello. “Laurence Olivier - Larry - was such a card, but a true gentleman,” Emmet would say as Jimmy would patiently nod. Emmet would then give Jimmy several pieces of hard candy and kiss him on the cheek before saying goodbye. Everyone in the mailroom would tease Jimmy about him and “that crazy old gay guy”, but Jimmy took it all in stride. 

“What can I say? Old people love me,” Jimmy would retort before punctuating the sentence by popping a Werther’s Original into his mouth. “And, besides, you’re just jealous you’re not getting any candy!” 

Jimmy was something nice, a little treat that Kim allowed herself while she was at work, clutching her mug of green tea while leaning against a shadowy office corner where he couldn’t see her, eavesdropping on his conversations, watching him smile as he brought others coffee and gazing at him as he gracefully folded letters and placed them gently in envelopes before licking the seal adhesive with his tongue. Yes, he was her little treat that she allowed herself and that fall morning was no different. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Kim was standing in the lunch room, patiently waiting for the plug-in kettle to warm up water for her tea, when he slide into the room, right behind her. 

“Hey there,” he had said to her shyly and she didn’t even have to turn around to know who that sweet, yet raspy voice belonged to. 

She was mildly surprised that he was able to close in on her like that, considering her mild to severe infatuation with him. Wherever she went in this office, she liked to know where he was and usually at this time he was still in the mail room, laughing with the fellow mail clerks while filing away office supply receipts and he didn’t take his break until 3:30, half an hour away.

He decided to have his break early then. 

Kim turned around slowly, not smiling, to see him up close, for the first time. His eyes were bluer than she had thought, flecks of deep blue, like lapis lazuli, lining the edge of his iris. His sandy hair looked more buoyant too, somehow shimmering under the harsh fluorescent lights and he was clutching some large manila envelopes to his chest, which — with his crooked tie, short-sleeved dress shirt and scuffed brown loafers — made him look like a shy, twee school boy, afraid of being scolded. 

It would be highly unethical to bend him over the break room countertop, but her imagination went there anyway.

“I think I’ve seen you around,” Jimmy finally said in response to Kim’s silence as he pulled nervously at the edges of the manila envelopes with his fingernails, the paper starting to thin and feather.

“I mean, I see you looking at me sometimes, but you never say, ‘Hello’”

Kim swallowed. So he had noticed. 

“And, that’s why, I came over here. To look for you,” Jimmy continued, a slight shake to his voice. “I wanted to know if… I did something wrong. For you not to talk to me. And I’m sorry if I did.”

Apologizing right out of the gate. That shouldn’t have aroused her, but it did. 

“If I said something rude or untoward and, I’ve been known to do that, I really am sorry.” 

The kettle started to whistle and Kim pulled it off of the hotplate.

“Would you like some tea?” She asked. Jimmy blinked a couple of times, disoriented from the change in topic, before he nodded unsteadily. 

“S-sure. That sounds nice.” Kim nodded back and turned to the counter, pulling down two ceramic mugs from the shelves - one said ‘Harvard Law School ’92’, the other had a picture of Garfield - as well as a cardboard box of Earl Grey. Kim then looked back at Jimmy, surveying his hunched shoulders, his shy stance.

“Did you ever think I was just shy?”

“What?” 

“Did you ever think I was just shy?” Kim repeated, looking at Jimmy as she dropped a tea bag into the mug. 

Jimmy gazed at her with wide eyes. “A girl like you?… —You’re not shy. You’re a lawyer.” 

Kim felt a predatory smile start to creep across her face. This Jimmy… she was liking him more and more. 

“I am shy,” Kim said, pouring the steaming water into their mugs, the steam hitting her cheeks. “I overcome my shyness in order to get things done. Usually, anyway. Here.”

Kim carefully handed over the steaming mug, slick handle out for Jimmy to grab, but then his grip slipped. The mug tumbled down, shattering on the tile, leaving a mess of muddy colored tea and sharp pieces. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Jimmy said before falling down on his knees, reaching for the ceramic pieces. Then, suddenly, a book fell from Jimmy's arms. It was previously between his manila packages, guiltily hidden like a copy of Playboy wedged in-between the pages of a comic book, before it landed dead center in the middle of the spilt tea carnage. 

The book had a lurid red cover and was titled ‘Nailing The Bar: New Mexico Bar Exam Preparation’ 

Kim and Jimmy both stared at the book, laying there between them as incriminatingly as a murder weapon, before they looked at each other.

“Please don’t tell any one!” Jimmy said in a panic, grabbing the wet book from the floor and clutching it against his chest like a momma bird. “Just, please, I beg of you. Don’t…”

Kim felt her eyes narrow.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” 

Jimmy glanced up at her nervously, scared to meet her eye. “I— just. _Please_. Don’t.” 

Kim was quiet while she considered him, down on his knees, pleading with her…

“Clean up this mess,” Kim said suddenly in a commanding tone as she kicked aside a piece of the shattered mug with the tip of her shoe, “then come to my office. Kim Wexler. J-22. Repeat that for me.”

Jimmy looked up at her, his expression confused, his blue eyes dilated and his mouth hanging open slightly.

“I said, repeat that.”

“Y—You want me to clean up this mess, then go to your office. Kim Wexler. J-22… Is that near the back?”

Kim nodded and said in her naturally low voice, “Good boy.” Jimmy’s eyes softened at the epithet, like it was feeding a part of him that he kept carefully hidden, before he lightly smiled and started to pick up the wet ceramic pieces. 

Kim then stepped over the mess and walked away, her high-heels clicking against the bone-white tile with a sexy little echo. 

Her feral smile could hardly contain her excitement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is me dealing with my Jimmy/Kim feels and Better Call Saul feelings in general. I think they'd make a wonderful domme/sub pairing. Also, Jimmy subbing anywhere just makes me happy.
> 
> This is a slow burn, but I promise it's going somewhere.
> 
> Also, thanks to junes_discotheque and jimmy-mckill. You guys are such lovely people and you give me such support. I am very grateful. Thank ya!
> 
> Oh yeah, and this hasn't been beta'd so, again.... forgive my general literary clumsiness.

As Jimmy picked up the last piece of the mug, he finally noticed that his hands were shaking. 

What had just happened to him, in this usually quiet office, in this middle-sized city, where nothing of note really occurred? After arriving from Cicero and being placed in the mailroom at Chuck’s insistence, Jimmy’s life started to take on the hallmarks of a safe, yet sedentary routine. Waking up at 5am before the sun rose above the Sandia Mountains, taking a shower with the shitty, little hotel soaps that his tightwad brother always stole from housekeeping carts during business conferences and putting on his clearance rack, business casual clothes, which were slipshod, but clean. He would then cook breakfast for himself and his brother — bacon and eggs! — before they would drive into work together, Chuck always driving while Jimmy would hunch over, face cupped in his hand as he’d gloomily look out the window, feeling more and more like a cowed teenager embarrassed to be driven to school by their parents. 

And so Jimmy’s life would go in an easy, predictable rhythm, like a desk pendulum, the only slight disturbance being bowling night with the other mail room guys on a Thursday, with Chuck finally giving in only after Jimmy promised not to drink anything and to be back by 11. 

_'But this'_ , Jimmy thought as he stood up, looking at the broken ceramic pieces in his shaking hands, _'This was different'._

He had noticed Kim before and not because she stood out with the general traits — bottled blond hair, intense blue eyes, model thin body — that signal to simple minded men that this is an attractive woman. No. Kim’s broad-stroke beauty was not what grabbed his attention. It was the way she held herself. He’d seen the other newbie paralegals and litigators and how they’d interact with the others, obviously confused and overwhelmed with how to conduct themselves in this competitive field. They were mostly quiet while standing in half-circles with their colleagues, holding cups of coffee and laughing at their less-than-stellar jokes. It annoyed Jimmy in a way that he couldn’t put his finger on, except to say that he’d bet that at least one of them - if not more of them — were far more witty than their arrogant co-workers and he wished he could hear their quips out loud. 

Kim was different. She wasn’t quiet, but engaged in conversation, mentioning 1970s cases dealing with criminal law from memory and handing a couple of her co-workers cream colored folders filled with xerox copied, stapled pages. 

“I came across this and thought it would help with your current case,” she’d say to their dumbfound faces before they’d stutter a thank-you. 

Jimmy found Kim intriguing in ways he couldn’t express. She wasn’t like his past girlfriends from Cicero, who were usually giggly, dramatic little things who swooned over crappy feather roses he bought for them from convenient stores and would leave in a huff if he was late for their movie date, which he almost always was. No, Kim instead reminded him of Miss Carmichael, the stern librarian that worked at Toman Library, which was technically in Chicago, but was only a nine minute drive away from Cicero. 

At least ten years his and Chuck’s senior, Miss Carmichael was commending, yet mysterious all at the same time. She had raven black hair that she always pulled into a strict, yet messy french twist and cupid’s bow lips that were smeared with burgundy lipstick. She wore old-fashioned, silk tie-blouses that were tucked into fitted pencil skirts and painfully tall high heels that made her slink around the library with a sexy little wobble. People said that she had received a basically worthless degree in Russian Literature from Dartmouth University before she came back to Chicago, living in a shitty little bohemian apartment, forever enslaved to her student loans. It was this and the sexy librarian image that she presented that made Chuck fall feverishly in love with her. 

Jimmy remembered being drug to the library by Chuck whenever she was on shift, Jimmy angry and bitter that his parents saw fit that Chuck got a car in high school and he didn’t. So, when having to chose between enduring Chuck trying to chat up the austere Miss Carmichael before receiving a fifteen minute direct ride to Wrigleyville so he could meet up with Marco before the game or taking three transfers in two hours to get to the same destination, Jimmy often chose the former. And, besides, it was sort of funny seeing his brother receive the brush off time and time again, with Chuck pitifully hoping that Miss Carmichael would finally notice him.

It was Jimmy that Miss Carmichael had noticed instead. 

It was something that Chuck never recovered from, the funny friendship-relationship that Jimmy and Miss Carmichael had formed forever mystifying and hurting Chuck at the same time. Jimmy couldn’t say why Miss Carmichael took an interest in him — a smart aleck, dusty-haired college drop out who wore garish print shirts and was clearly not in her league — except to say that he made her laugh. 

They’d hang out in her office after hours, her laughing at his stories as she’d sit on her leather chair, her feet up on her desk, crossed at the ankles, as she drank cheap Bordeaux from her wine glass. He liked making her laugh and he liked the tasks that she assigned him, even though he couldn’t say why, as he usually didn’t like anyone telling him what to do. But with her? He didn’t mind. He liked sitting on the floor of her dimly lit office, looking up at her sitting at her desk and sipping her wine like a queen, before he’d continue to alphabetize and timestamp the files laid out in front of him on the thin gray carpet, telling her more stories as he went.

And when he’d finish his last batch of files, Miss Carmichael would pull another wineglass from her desk drawer and pour him a hearty helping of the Bordeaux. 

“You did such a good job,” she’d say in her low, rich voice as she handed him the glass, their fingers brushing against one another. 

He’d then blush, her words warming him, before he would say, “Thank you, Miss Carmichael.” He’d then drink from the glass.

Jimmy didn’t realize how much he had missed her until that moment. 

How he hoped that Kim would be like her. 

 

~*~*~

There was a timid knock at Kim’s door and it startled her. 

When she had left Jimmy to clean up the spilled tea, she had sprinted to her office, not quite knowing what she was going to do, but knowing that she was going to do something. 

It was silly, but after all this time longing for him, the moment had arrived and all she felt was self-conscious. 

“You can come in,” Kim said, her deep voice not betraying how she was feeling. The door swung open. 

Jimmy was of course standing there, a steaming mug of tea in one hand, his book and manila folders in the other. His shy smile twisted her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. 

“Hey. I brought you this,” he said, raising the cup of tea, incase she was confused, before placing the mug on her desk. “I also brought you these.” Jimmy removed several sugar and cream packets from his pants pocket, before laying them down gently.

“I didn’t know how you take your tea.” Kim contemplated him as he shifted his weight nervously. He was even more luminous up close, his blue eyes assuring her that he was as diffident as he appeared, like a dollop of sugared whipped cream on a slice of strawberry shortcake. 

She wanted to devour him. 

“I take sugar and cream in my earl grey,” Kim said before turning away from Jimmy in her chair and opening the file cabinet to her left. Jimmy stared at her, giving her a puzzled expression, before his sweet, pink tinted lips formed a perfect ‘O’. Kim glanced at him as he opened up two sugar packets and one cream, pouring the contents in before stirring them a small plastic spoon that he brought with him. He was doing all of this and she hardly prompted him. Kim could only imagine what he would do when prompted. It was almost enough to make her leer. 

When Kim turned back to him, Jimmy was eagerly holding out the cup with both hands, like how a tv host might hold out an award. Kim took the cup from him, their fingers brushing against one another, causing Jimmy to flush a delicious rose color, before she took a sip of the warm tea, the notes of bergamot, lavender and cream hitting her tongue. Kim closed her eyes and hummed pleasantly, before nodding her head toward the sad, rickety metal chair that was leaning against the wall.

“You can have a seat.” 

Jimmy sat down on the chair, his body strung as tight as a guitar string, only the balls of his feet touching the ground, making him look ridiculously fragile and prim for a grown man. It made Kim lick her lips in a discreet, yet feral manner.

“So, you want to be a lawyer, uh…?”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy,” Kim repeated with relish, liking how the name rolled off her tongue, happy she could finally call him that. 

“Are you sure you want to be a lawyer, Jimmy?” He nodded.

“Yes, I do.” 

“I must warn you, it’s not anything like Law & Order. It’s a lot of dealing with somehow irritating, yet boring clients, finding obscure documents, working late hours and getting paid very little. It’s very _dull_ work.”

Jimmy swallowed thickly and said something that surprised her.

“I like dull work.” 

Kim stared at him for a long time as a world of possibilities with him sprung before her like an enchanted fairytale path. 

“There’s something about you…” Kim started to say. “You’re closed tight…. but you’re open and.. _playful_ , all at the same time.” 

Jimmy nervously chuckled. “Is that bad?” 

“No,” Kim said, her deep voice even and calm. “It’s your duality that intrigues me. It makes me want to know more.” 

Kim knew that she looked — and she felt herself become — vaguely predatory, with Jimmy sitting before her with his wide, vulnerable blue eyes and sweet face, before he swallowed nervously once more. She then made up her mind. 

“I’m going to help you. Give me your bar exam book.” Jimmy handed her the book as Kim grabbed a blue highlighter from her desk. She then flipped the book to the section she was looking for. 

“We’ll start with the section I think you’ll do best in: essay questions. Especially since that pretty mouth of yours knows how to turn a phrase.”

Jimmy softly gasped without meaning to, startled that she said that his mouth was pretty. Kim raised an eyebrow in his direction before she continued marking the book with her highlighter. 

“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve heard you talk with your fellow co-workers and your talent lies in your words. One can only imagine what you’ll do when you can actually sit down with a piece of paper and edit them.”

Kim handed the book back to him once she was finished, capping the highlighter in a somehow commanding way. 

“Write two essays on the section that I highlighted, one for defense, one for the prosecution. I expect them two days from now. Do not disappoint me because I’ll make sure that you’ll regret it, you understand?” 

He nodded. 

"Good," she purred as he got up to leave. "And, Jimmy?" Jimmy turned around to look at her. "Less sugar in the tea next time."

Kim watched as the soft smile that she saw earlier creeped across his face, before he meekly said, "Yes, Miss Wexler." 

Kim rewarded him with a smile as he left.

This was going to turn out well.


End file.
